Chapter 3
Both kids were silent for a few minutes. Dave was driving through the empty streets much less smoothly than he had promised Kenny. It seemed almost as if he was purposefully looking for every bump in the road, pushing the gas pedal far more often than the blond kid would have liked.
Finally, he broke the silence with another one of the odd questions and remarks Kenny was beginning to expect from him.
"Kenny Hutchinson… humm…That's not a cool name, if you ask me."
"What?" Kenny asked, at a loss as where that statement could possibly be going.
"Kenny sounds too… How do I put it?... Too much like a little kid's name. And about Hutchinson… well, it's just too long; too pretentious, if you get my drift." Dave elaborated by taking his hand off of the steering wheel and gesticulating widely for emphasis.
"Put your hands on the wheel, Dave, for Christ sake!" Kenny shouted, startled. He grabbed the dashboard tightly with both hands.
"Whoa pal! Take it easy or you're gonna have a stroke!" The curly-haired boy exclaimed, amused. "As I told you, I know how to drive. And probably better than any of the cab drivers in this fucking city."
"Yeah, sure… Anyway, mind driving with both hands in the wheel… Please?" Kenny asked running a hand across his suddenly damp forehead.
"Of course, Blondie, no problem," the brunet said. He raised his hands in a placating gesture, as Kenny's face become a couple of shades paler than before.
"Like I said, Kenny Hutchinson is a name that doesn't suit you. Nah... not at all." He continued with his explanation, ignoring the other's gaze at his hands on the steering wheel. "You look more like Hutch to me."
"Like what?" The blond one asked, his eyes wide.
"Hutch. It's a nice nickname. It sounds strong… it has personality." Dave felt proud of his own cleverness.
"It sounds stupid." the other said grumpily.
"That's just because you aren't used to it yet." Dave insisted, "But after you've heard it a few times you'll come to like it. You'll see, Hutch."
"Oh, okay, have it your way," the newly nicknamed boy said, shrugging. "I don't mind… No one's going to call me that, anyway."
"Well, I don't care about the others, but I'll do it. That's for sure. Now you just have to think a little and find a nickname for me." Dave encouraged, playfully.
"For you? I don't know, I just…" The blond kid trailed off, finding the matter silly and childish, and yet, despite himself, also wanting to play along.
"Something with character, like your new nickname. Come on, Hutch, think about it."
"I don't know… How about Starsk? You know, your surname, but without the Y at the end?"
"Starsk, huh? I like it. Yeah, I like it." Dave agreed, pleased. "Okay, Hutch, we're here," he announced, parking the purple car in a dark rear alley.
The boys climbed out of the car and walked into the diner, picking a table near a wide window. The place, small, poorly lit by a few murky lamps, and rather grimy, was almost empty. As a matter of fact, there was only one patron, sitting on a stool by the bar and draining the last of his beer before leaving. The only sound came from a radio set hidden somewhere, from which the voice of the announcer could be heard talking about a dangerous inmate who had managed to escape from Attica Correctional Facility the day earlier.
The waitress, a pregnant woman who despite her advanced gestation seemed to be the only one serving the patrons at that late hour, approached their table with a notepad and pen in her hands to take their order.
"What would you like, dears?" She asked, while filling their glasses with icy water. She gave them a smile that tried to mask her obvious discomfort as she rubbed her large belly.
Both kids placed their orders. A huge cheeseburger with onion and pickles, with a side of French fries, plus a soda and a chocolate pie for Starsky, and a salad alongside of a tuna sandwich on whole wheat and a glass of milk for Hutch. Soon they were eating their meals while chatting about both light and serious subjects. Both, despite the many differences between their personalities, shared the same odd feeling of being more at ease with each other than they had been in a long time, maybe in all their short lives, with any other of their friends.
Starsk, as the kid wanted to be named by the blond one, told to his new friend about his other friends, his life in his humble neighborhood and especially about how the recent murder of his father had shattered his family, turning his once happy home into an endless nightmare of grief and hopelessness.
Hutch told Starsky about his dreams, his family, all the problems undermining daily his parent's marriage and all the big expectations that his demanding father had for him. Expectations that had nothing to do with the real wishes the unhappy kid had for his future.
"My father wants me to be a prestigious lawyer, like he is... But I… I just don't wanna spend all my life doing that kind of job," Hutch said, using his fork to stir the last remains of salad on his plate. "I'm not too sure about what I wish to do yet, but I don't wanna be a lawyer, that's for sure. I'd rather find a way to help people, not from behind any desk, or in an office, but on the streets, being with them, getting to know them, sharing their feelings and problems. I think that this is the only real way to help people." A pensive silence hung between both boys until Hutch spoke again.
"What about you, Starsk? What would you like to do for a living?" The blond drained the last of his soda.
"Dunno," he answered flatly. "I only know that I'd like to leave this rotten place. I'd like to see other people, visit other countries… I'm not sure yet. Maybe in a few years I'll join the army, or I'll sign myself onto a cargo boat. Yeah, that'll be a good idea; I love boats… But, before I go anywhere I've got something very important to do," the curly-haired kid added darkly, lowering his voice.
"I know it's none of my business, but… What's that, Starsk? What's so important that you have to do?" Hutch asked softly.
"I'm going to track down and kill my father's assassins," the brunet said, looking up. He tugged sharply at the napkin hanging from his t-shirt collar, and squeezed it tightly in his fist, his dark blue eyes shining with rage and pain.
"Oh…Come on Starsk, you can't be serious," Hutch said, feeling his heart rate increase. "That's revenge, pure and simple revenge. And that would destroy your life. You'd turn into a killer, like the ones who killed your father. You'd go to prison… Maybe even…"
"Before sending me to prison, they would have to find out that I did it. I mean, they got to have proofs, don't you think?" Starsky cut him off, still staring fiercely into Hutch's eyes. "The fact is; the police aren't doing anything to find pop's killers… And somebody has to do it. Somebody has to punish them for good."
The blond kid struggled to find the right words to say, he wanted to stretch out his hand to squeeze Starsky's shoulder; to convey with that touch all his understanding, but, unsure of the brunet's response, he couldn't gather up the courage to do it.
"Starsk… I… Just don't know what to say. I only wish that you'd think twice before doing something that…"
"Listen, Hutch. Can we drop this matter?" Starsk asked, getting to his feet. "I don't wanna keep talking about it. After all, like you said, it's none of your damn business how I choose to throw my life away."
"Starsk, I... Well, I was just trying to help, that's all." The blond one answered warily, standing as well and placing a few bills onto the table.
"Thanks, Hutch, but there's nothing you can do to help me. Nobody can. What has to be done, has to be done and that's all." The brunet kid took a deep breath before speaking again, this time in lighter tone.
"Well, Blondie I guess our fun ends now. Over there you got a payphone to call for a cab or you can call your parents if you want." Starsky said, pointing with his chin at the opposite wall where a phone that had seen better days hung forlornly. "I have to get back to Jimmy's to give him his Belle. I don't wanna piss the guy off."
"Yeah..." Hutch answered in a barely audible voice, feeling a sudden lump in his throat, a lump that he didn't know Starsky was feeling as well.
"Bye, Blondie. I hope your parents won't be too mad at you." Starsky said, patting Hutch's arm before heading towards the diner doors. He waved goodbye, as Hutch watched his exit.
"Bye, Starsk. Take good care of yourself, buddy," the blond kid said, raising his hand, still standing in the middle of the empty dinning room even though Starsky had already left.
"Hey honey… are you okay?" Hutch felt a hand onto his shoulder and turning, he saw the waitress. She looked concerned.
"Uh?… Oh, sure, ma'am… I'm fine." Hutch said. "Can I use the phone, please? I need to call for a cab."
"Oh, I'm very sorry, but the phone's not working. We called the company a while ago, but they're not coming to fix it until tomorrow morning."
"But then… How can I get a cab to go back to my hotel?" Hutch asked, distraught.
"Dunno, sweetheart. The nearest cabstand is about a mile and a half away from here. Maybe you'll get lucky and you'll find a cab in the street, or you can look for a payphone on your way, or…" Hutch, forgetting his manners, didn't wait for the waitress to finish, but instead broke into a run. The woman, rubbing absentmindedly her belly, watched the boy leave before returning to her task of cleaning the tables.
"STAAAARSK! WAIT!" Hutch shouted as he ran to the back alley where the brunet had parked the car a while earlier.
"STARSK!" Hutch called out again trotting to where Starsky was already starting the engine, almost bumping against the driver's side of the car.
"Hey Blondie! Where's the fire?" The brunet asked, killing the engine and climbing out of the purple painted Ford.
"The… the phone's not working." The blond one explained pointing at the restaurant while gasping for air "I can't call for either a cab or my parents."
"Okay, no problem, Hutch. I'll give you a lift to your hotel." Starsky offered nonchalantly.
"Are you nuts?" Hutch asked, grimly. "You can't go through the streets of Manhattan driving a car, Starsk! A traffic cop could see you and then we'd find ourselves in a hell of a mess!"
"Okay, okay. You got a point there, I guess." The brunet conceded. "No ride to Manhattan. I'll just drop you off at the nearest cab stand. But before I take you there, gimme a minute, will ya? I need to hit the john." Starsky said. He strode toward the restaurant entrance with Hutch a few steps behind him.
Once back inside the small diner, maybe because the waitress was out of sight and there weren't any patrons around either, Hutch felt a unexpected shiver running up his spine.
"Be right back, Hutch," the brunet said, heading toward the restrooms. Hutch waited for him, idly looking over the records in the jukebox placed in a corner, unaware of the sound of steps at his back.
Many years later, as if fate was playing a nasty trick on him, Hutch, in an Italian restaurant and on a stormy night, would find himself in a very similar situation, and like that moment, this one would be a prelude to big trouble, too…
The blond boy heard the steps getting nearer to him, but just as he decided to turn around he felt something hard press against his back.
"Listen kid, there's a gun pointed straight at your back," a husky male voice said behind him. "Don't make any fuss and maybe you'll live long enough to reach your majority… Come on, turn around slowly and nicely," the voice commanded.
Shaking from head to foot, and feeling his legs turning into wobbly jelly, Hutch did as the man commanded, turning around to face him.
"Ple-please, sir… I-I don't wanna give you any trouble…" Hutch managed to say while taking in the frightening sight of the muscular, tall man standing in front of him. He had piercing yet small black eyes, angular features, black, thick hair, and a rough face lined with deep and premature wrinkles.
"Fine, then things will be much easier for all of us. Hands up where I can see them!" the man commanded, all the while pointing at Hutch's chest with his gun, so near to him that he could smell his nauseating alcohol-filled breath.
The blond kid was so utterly terrified that just for a moment he forgot that he was only there because Starsky had wanted to go to the restroom. He had also forgotten that the brunet was going to reappear at any moment…
"Okay, Hutch. Let's go." Starsk said just then, heading out from the men's restroom. The felon, upon seeing him, gave a quick jerk at the collar of Hutch's shirt and forced the shocked boy to his knees and hands, before putting a large foot on his back and pinning him face down against the floor.
"Hands up and come here, curly, or I'll blow your guts all over this fucking place!" the man hissed.
"Okay… okay, guy; take it easy... No need to get mad." Starsky answered with counterfeit coolness, raising his hands and slowly stepping closer to the armed man.
"Is there anybody else in here?" he asked, pointing his gun at Starsky as he took his foot off of Hutch's back and pulled him roughly to his feet.
"How the hell can I know? I'm not the owner of this joint." The brunet snapped, staring defiantly into the older man's eyes. The felon's lips curled in a sarcastic smile. Then, without warning, he gave the boy's face a fierce slap, sending him crashing to the floor.
"Starsk!" Hutch exclaimed, wanting to rush to the brunet, but too terrified to move.
"I'm… I'm okay, Hutch... yeah… fine," Starsky mumbled, scrambling to his feet. He wiped away the blood seeping from his split lip with the back of his hand, while looking with hate-filled eyes at his attacker.
"Look, scumbag," the man addressed Starsky, shoving the blond one toward him. "Let me make things clear. I am the one with the gun. That means that I am the one in charge here, and for your information, I hate cocky, bigmouthed children. Try to not forget it, and watch your mouth if you don't wanna piss me off any further, okay?"
Then, as if the situation wasn't bad enough for both kids, the forgotten waitress came out of the ladies restroom. She was walking unsteadily, holding her abdomen with both hands.
"He-help me… I need to get to the hospital… My baby!" she said. She winced once in pain, before uttering a long, deep moan and collapsing to the floor.
Both the boys and the man froze in their spots for a moment, until the last one spoke firmly to the woman.
"Oh, come on, honey! Don't you know that one's the oldest trick in the book? Stop playing your stupid games and get up, now!"
"I'm… I'm n-not joking, sir… My baby's going… going to come..." She said tearfully, struggling to get to her feet. She sat down in one of the booths with Hutch's help.
"Listen… listen, sir." He said warily. "Can't you see it? The lady's not lying. She really needs to get to the hospital!"
"SHUT UP, DAMN! SHUT UP ALL OF YOU! YOU´RE MAKING ME NERVOUS!" The man barked, slamming the bar with his large hand, making both kids to flinch.
"What do you wanna from us?" Starsky asked softly, trying to stare into the man's eyes and not at the gun pointing at him and Hutch.
"From you?" The man asked back, cocking an eyebrow, before bursting into a loud guffaw. "Oh Geez, you're real funny, kid, ya know that?" Becoming serious, he said, "I don't want anything from you three… nothing at all. You're just my hostages. Sort of merchandise that I'm going to trade for a car, money and a safe passage outta here. But all in its right time. Right now I'm hungry and I'm going to get something to eat." He moved closer to the waitress and Hutch.
"You both! Get up and come with me!"
"Wh-why…Where are we going?" She asked in bafflement.
"Has this joint a pantry closet?" The man asked, instead of answering the woman's question.
"Oh… well, yes… yes, it has." She answered, too upset to guess the obvious plans that the felon had in mind for her and Hutch.
"Fine. Now show me the way, honey. You both are going to spend a nice, quiet while in there."
"But… You can't do that, man!" Starsky exclaimed. He immediately regretted his unwise outburst.
"I can. Do. Anything. I want… Do I make myself clear, smartass?" The man spat, as he grabbed a handful of the brunet's hair, and pulled his head backwards, pushing the barrel of his gun under the kid's nose. Hutch and the waitress watched the scene unfold in mesmerized horror.
"It's o-okay, sir, it's okay. No q-questions… We'll do anything you want us to do," Hutch ventured to say, fearfully, trying to appease the enraged man. He wondered why that curly, impulsive boy had to have such a big mouth.
"Come on, move! To the pantry!" The man ordered, releasing Starsky's hair to grab the kid's arm in an iron grasp, while pointing at the woman and Hutch with his gun.
A moment later, once the waitress had handed the pantry keys to their captor, she and the blond kid went obediently into the small room.
"No you don't. You're coming with me to the kitchen," he said to Starsky, when the brunet attempted to step inside the pantry with the other two. "I have to have at least one hostage with me all the time, just in case." Saying so, he locked the door and pointed his gun at Starsky's back, pushing him toward the entrance of the diner, where he turned out the lights and hung the closed sign on the front door, before heading with the boy to the kitchen.
xxxxxxx
Over the next while, Hutch, despite being scared out of his mind, did his best to seem calm for the sake of the equally frightened waitress. He tried to convince her that everything was going to be okay eventually, all the while trying to think of some way to unlock the door of the claustrophobic little room.
"My… my baby… I can't give birth to my baby in here... It's… It's so cold!" She said to Hutch with a trembling voice. The blond boy took his jacket off, wrapping the waitress's shoulders with it.
"T-thanks, kid… you're very kind…" She said trying to control her shaky breathing.
"You're welcome, ma'am… What's your name, by the way?" Hutch asked hoping that a little conversation would be helpful in easing the woman's distress.
"Carol… Carol Garret."
"Kenny Hutchinson." Hutch introduced himself. "I really wish we had met in very different circumstances."
"Yeah… Me too." She paused to take a deep breath. "Guess what, Kenny?... I wasn't expecting my baby to be born yet. My due date's in about two weeks."
"Well, so it looks like your kid has a real bad timing, huh?" he joked softly, eliciting a weak smile from Carol.
"Do you think we'll be able to get outta here alive, Kenny?" She asked then, candidly.
"Sure, Carol… I'm sure of that. We'll do it, you'll see," he assured, as he looked at their surroundings, searching for something useful to pry the lock open.
"Is the kid out there a friend of yours?" she asked. She looked at the closed door as she absently rubbed her belly.
"Starsk? Oh, yes, he is." Hutch answered without hesitation, truly meaning his answer.
"I just hope that son of a bitch doesn't hurt him." she said, before a new contraction took her breath away.
xxxxxxx
Meanwhile, in the kitchen, the unknown man was fixing himself a huge sandwich and taking a beer from the large fridge, all the while aiming at Starsky with his gun...
"I guess that you'd like to know who I am, right?" the man asked Starsky while loading cold cuts onto four slices of white bread. "I'm Jacob Kravitz. The escaped inmate from Attica's prison," he explained upon seeing that the kid didn't seemed too eager to ask. "Most likely you've heard about me."
"Yep. On the radio." Starsky said, in flat voice.
"And also, I guess you're wondering why I'm here. Why, after escaping from prison, I'd come to this city full of cops instead of heading for Tijuana, or something... After all, as you most likely know, Attica is pretty far from here." He kept talking as he sat down on a wooden stool.
"Doesn't make much sense, huh?" the man asked, popping open the cap of his beer bottle. "Well. Let's say that I had to take care of some business here… I had to kill my wife's lover, actually." He paused, taking a long drink of his beer. "What's wrong, kid?" The man asked then, staring coldly at Starsky, with an edge of impatience in his voice. "Haven't your parents taught you to be polite and talk with people when they are trying to have a nice chat with you?"
On hearing that, young Starsky swallowed dryly, searching his mind for something appropriate to say. Instead, though, he found himself uttering the only question that his brain could form at that moment.
"And you did it?"
"Of course I did it, kid." Kravitz's lips curled into a wicked smile full of pride. "Years ago, when I found out that Bertha, the damn bitch who happened to be my wife, and Roy were having an affair, I killed her. Then, before I had a chance to get my hands on Roy, the police caught me and sent me to the pen. But that doesn't matter anymore, because just a while ago, I finally blew out the fucking brain of that bastard and now his sorry body lies in a stinky alley not too far from here. He got what was coming to him all these years. It's as simple as that."
"Guess what?" Starsky said all of sudden. "I understand you… I mean; I understand why you killed them." The kid stated, trying somehow to get Kravitz to trust him, just as his father had told him to do, if someday he found himself trapped in a hostage situation. He sounded sincere and convincing, though actually his thoughts and feelings were in turmoil. Was that what the desire for revenge did to people? Could he turn into a man like Kravitz, if he was unable to find a way to let go of his hate? If he kept sticking to his plan to some day kill the ones who had killed his dad?...
"You can't understand it, kid. To understand, you'd have to know all that they did to me. All that they took away from me." Kravitz said gloomily.
"Tell me about… Please, Mr. Kravitz" Starsky asked timidly. "I'd like to understand you. I really want to."
"They let my kid, my pride and my joy die."
"W-what? I mean, how?" Starsky asked, stunned.
"My poor Tommy was a wonderful child. Sweet, lively and smart, gorgeous as any of those kids you see in the TV commercials, with his dark hair and his blue eyes… Now, he'd be 15, more or less your age, I guess…" The man paused to stare at Starsky with a sad smile curling his lips "I would give anything to have Tommy back by my side." Kravitz added in low voice "But he had epilepsy… a quite severe form of it, that wasn't responding to the medication as well as doctors expected. One night I was at work… and back then I hadn't clue about it yet, but while I was out, that bitch, Bertha, was in my own bed, fornicating with her lover like two lustful beasts." Kravitz stopped to drink a long gulp of his beer, his sandwich totally forgotten onto the counter.
"That night, Tommy, my little man, had a seizure while his mother was sound asleep in the arms of that bastard… Well, she didn't heard anything, and when she and her lover awoke, it was too late for Tommy. According the autopsy, my son had choked to death with a bite of cookie that apparently he was eating when he suffered the seizure … And guess what?" Jacob Kravitz asked in strained voice, as his eyes filled with tears of anger and despair. "When he died, my kid was just eight years old… Just eight, for God's sake!"
"Christ…" Starsky whispered; his compassionate heart full of sympathy towards the unhappy man in front of him.
Just then, a spine-chilling scream and the sound of hard pounding came from the near pantry closet filling the entire place. TBC